The Minister's Chair
by Victory in Chains
Summary: Magical Britain has the worst luck with Ministers for Magic. In a world of enchantments, curses, and potions, is it JUST luck and coincidence? Order of the Lily AU.
1. The Minister's Chair

The Minister's Chair

 **22 December 1990** **-** **Ministry of Magic**

Cornelius Fudge stood in the minister's office, a small smile on his face as he surveyed the sturdy renaissance furnishings. He ran a hand along the outer edge of the large desk that was now his, and spun in a complete circle, giggling softly. _If my constituents could see me now!_ he said in the recesses of his mind, giggling again.

It had taken a long year of vigorous campaigning, but Fudge had made it. Bagnold hadn't liked him at all, and had wanted the office to go to her Senior Undersecretary, Derek Nott. But Fudge was young, vigorous, powerful and decisive. All through the campaign he had made Nott look ineffectual and indecisive, despite Bagnold doing her best to overwhelm him in his office as Junior Minister for the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes.

Even so, with Bagnold's support Nott had held the lead throughout the campaign, until, in what he could only consider a sign from Merlin, Fudge had been personally responsible for saving over two hundred lives and containing a potentially catastrophic breach of the Statute of Secrecy when a young, muggle-born witch had a bout of hysterical accidental magic after an attempt to rape her. The laurels from that event catapulted Fudge to the front of the race, and he rode the wave of popularity straight to the Minister's Chair.

At a gentle knock on his office door, he straightened up, adjusted his robes, and adopted a serious mien. Giddiness was not an appropriate attitude for the chief executive of a government.

"Enter!" he called.

The inner door of his office swung quietly open, held by his administrative assistant.

"Minister Fudge, Mage Councilor Malfoy, regarding the minister's furnishings," the assistant announced.

Fudge nodded, a brisk acknowledgment of his assistance, and wondered what about his furnishings warranted a visit from the wealthiest member of the House of Mages. He took his seat behind his desk, and instructed his assistant to show the Mage Councilor into the office.

Fudge narrowed his eyes slightly as Lucius Malfoy stepped into the office with soft, diffident strides. The man was wealthy and powerful, politically and magically; why was he being demure as a debutante? Malfoy's shoulders were slightly hunched inwards, and his eyes were lowered and slightly cast to his left.

"Minister," he began, only to pause briefly, close his mouth, and open it again. "Minister. I hope I do not come across to presumptuous, but I would like your help to honor a Malfoy family tradition."

"Traditions are important, Councilor Malfoy," Fudge replied. "If I can, without compromising myself, I shall do what I may to assist you." _What could traditions have to do with furnishings?_ Fudge wondered.

Malfoy's eyes rose until he met Fudge's gaze. "Thank you, Minister. When Grégoire Malfoy attended William of Normandy, he noticed that his King spent most of his days in a chair, and that as the day wore on, His Majesty became more irritable and prone to making decisions with his temper, rather than his reason.

"Wishing to serve and aid his sovereign, Grégoire had a chair made, specifically crafted to fit William, and enchanted to be as comfortable as could be. William's appreciation led to Grégoire being created Baronet Malfoy, and in honor of this all Malfoys since have had working chairs made for those whom they serve."

Fudge nodded gently. "And you'd like to have such a chair made for me, Councilor?" he asked.

"Yes, minister. Yes I would," Malfoy answered.

"Excellent!" Fudge exclaimed. "Make an appointment with my assistant as soon as may be." Fudge gave his wand a deft twist, sending a message to his assistant with barely a gesture. "I shall have to declare it, of course," he appended, giving Malfoy a gently chiding look, "but I daresay you'll do so as well."

"Thank you for your time, Minister," Lucius responded, smoothly rising from his seat. Fudge noted with amusement the change in body language as Malfoy left the office with smooth, confident strides, head held high.

 **11 May 1993** **-** **Fudge Estate - Gingerbread House**

Miranda Fudge examined herself in the mirror above the mantle. Round, brown eyes, dark lashes, small chin, high cheekbones, and a smooth forehead. Dark, wavy hair draped her oval-shaped face, her figure was svelte and trim. She pursed her lips, shook her head, and clasped her hands gently in front of her.

 _A lady is never distressed,_ she heard her mother's voice admonish her. _A lady is always calm and collected._ Miranda's lips twisted into a wry smile as she considered Fiendfyreing her mother's portrait.

She drew in a slow breath, and let it out in a rush as she examined the tea service once again. Delicate china ware and silver cutlery. She shuddered and touched a hand to her stomach, then across the silver handle in reassurance. Her husband would be home soon, and this was important.

"Thank you, Tara. You've done a wonderful job," she murmured to the empty air, knowing Tara would hear the praise. Miranda crossed the room with gentle steps and seated herself, focusing on her breathing to suppress her anxiety as she awaited her husband.

Several minutes later, a soft whoosh announced the flare of the floo as it activated, and rough thumps the arrival of her husband. She stood and crossed the rooms, greeting Cornelius with a hug. Her embrace lingered as she took a moment to compose herself, tears pressing at the back of her eyes at the astringent and **unfamiliar** perfume that lingered on her husband's collar. If Cornelius noticed her lingering, he gave no sign, making his way to tea with swift, heavy steps after she released him.

Miranda poured her husband's first cup, dressing it with the absurd amount of sugar he had come to take in the last few years. She waited patiently for him to finish, and spoke when he passed it back.

"Cornelius, we need to talk."

Her husband froze at the words, looking at her with widened eyes. Miranda's heart lurched as he composed himself and answered jovially, "Of course, of course! What is it, my dear?"

"Cornelius, I think you should resign as Minister for Magic."

"W-what? Miranda..." Cornelius shook his head and looked into her eyes. "I don't understand. Why would you say such a thing?"

"Cornelius..." Miranda sighed, and poured him a second cup of tea, and a third for herself. "You've changed since you took the job. Dramatically. It worries me."

"Nonsense!" he interjected, "I've-"

Miranda cut him off, "Gained fifty-three pounds, exhibited impaired cognition, started sleeping in a separate bedroom, fired your best friend's nephew, dropped half your social circle..." She shook her head and her posture wilted. "So many of your decisions lately don't make any sense at all. Lius, please. I miss my husband."

"Now see here, Miranda! I've put up with this nonsense because you're my wife, but if you're going to disrespect me..."

Miranda snapped her head up, her posture going rigid. "Disrespect you?" Her voice rose steadily in pitch and volume, and Cornelius cringed back. "Disrespect YOU!? **I** didn't fire my assistant to hire some floozy with big tits in too-short skirts! **I** don't come home smelling like cheap perfume! **I** didn't move out of our bedroom so I could 'entertain' pretty young women at home!"

"So that's what this is all about!" Cornelius retorted. "You think I'm-I'm… carrying on! Well, I've got news for you, missy-"

"Take your news and blow it out your ear!" Miranda hissed. Her chair clattered to the floor as she jumped to her feet, making the service rattle as the table lurched. "It's all a piece! You decide what's more important, the Minister's Office or the Marital Bed! I'll be at my sister's until you do, and I don't want to see you without either a letter of resignation or a divorce decree in your hand!" She stalked to the floo, and cried out, "Knochenhaus!" before she vanished in a whirl of green flame.

Cornelius stared blankly at the wreckage of his tearoom as he pondered the wreckage of his marriage. "I have to talk to Lucius..." he mumbled.

 **11 May 1993** **-** **Bones Estate - Knochenhaus**

Amelia Bones tried not to smile as her younger sister paced back and forth in her parlor, muttering vile imprecations under her breath. Truly, separating from one's husband wasn't something to smile at, but her usually prim sister's language was becoming more and more vulgar. Eventually Miranda Fudge nee Bones ran out of steam, and she collapsed into a chaise with no thought to her posture, letting her tears free at last.

"I just… don't understand, Amy," she implored. "It's like the man I married has just… died, leaving a hedonistic shell of a fool in his place. What went wrong?"

Amelia sat a bit straighter, twitching her wand to summon a blank notebook. Fishing a pen from her pocket, she looked over at her sister. Miranda rolled her eyes… "Let's make a list!" they chorused.

"Okay, Amelia," Miranda relented, and started counting on her fingers. "Lius started taking his tea with five lumps instead of straight. He stopped socially visiting the Gamps, the Weasleys, the Ogdens, the MacMillans, and Slughorn. His decision-making's become erratic; he'll make a decision, then reverse himself two or three times. He..." Miranda blushed, "became disinterested in intimacy… with me at least," she appended, before clearing her throat.

"He started taking more sweets. He dismissed Samson Rawlings. His wand-work got clumsier; things he used to do himself are left to Tara. He hired that tart with more boobs than brains as his personal assistant. Um..."

"Miranda," Amelia called her sister's attention back to the present. "This list," she waved her notebook, "is enough for me to start a quiet, legal investigation. I don't know if we'll discover anything other than that your husband let his office go to his head, but I can at least look."

Miranda rose, gave her sister a tight hug, and exited the parlor without another word.

 **12 May 1993** **-** **MoM** **-** **DMLE Annex #3**

Wilson Rogers nodded to his secretary as he walked into his office. At almost two meters tall, broad-shouldered and heavyset, with a blunt jaw, small eyes, thick eyebrows and cheap business robes, an ignorant observer could be forgiven for concluding the man was a thug rather than one of Magical Britain's three 'top cops'. As the Head of the Magical Diplomatic Protection Group Rogers strove to be underestimated.

"DDMLE waiting in your office, sir," his secretary dutifully chirped. Rogers raised his eyebrows and nodded his acknowledgment, walking directly into his office to find Amelia Bones and Rufus Scrimgeour, head of the Auror Office, holding their wands on him.

Rogers froze, slowly raising his hands.

"This is offensive in the extreme, and I apologize for it, but I'll need you to make this oath," Amelia said, handing him an oathstone and a written oath. Rogers froze, and glared at his boss, then placed his hand on the stone.

"I, Wilson Percival Rogers, do hereby swear that I have not willfully violated, by word or by deed, the mandate of my office to ensure the safety and well-being of the officers of government entrusted to my care." The oathstone under his hand pulsed blue a moment, and then faded, quiescent. "All right, Amelia what's..." Madam Bones held up her hand, interrupting his question.

"Curse Breaker," she directed, nodding towards the corner behind him. Rogers started and looked over his shoulder. A figure in a gray robe with their face obscured behind a charm.

"No active magical effects," the figure reported. They then thrust a small square of metal towards Rogers. "Bleed on this please, Mr. Rogers," the figure directed.

Scowling, Rogers sliced open the back of his forearm and let the blood drip onto the square while the figure watched a clear crystal. "He's clear of potions," the curse breaker reported. The gray-robed figure then left, closing the door behind them.

"Amelia..." Wilson growled.

"Will. I'm sorry, but your office may be compromised. I HAD to ensure you were clear," Amelia preempted him, watching him levelly, her wand away. "It was intrusive and offensive, but required."

Wilson scowled, but nodded brusquely before seating himself behind his desk. "What've you got, then?"

Rufus took the other visitor chair before speaking up. "An MDPG subject has exhibited drastic behavioral changes over the past three years. It **could** just be stress combined with a new position, but the behavioral changes are significant enough to warrant a compulsory medical examination."

"All MDPG protectees are required to undergo yearly medical examinations," Rogers riposted. "If you're talking about a period of three years..."

"We checked," Amelia countered. "All three examinations were signed off on by the same attending healer."

"You think the healer may have been compromised, too?" Rogers couldn't keep the skeptical look off his face. "Aren't you getting a bit… paranoid?"

"In this instance, it's not completely paranoid," Rufus responded. "The office is influential enough to warrant the kind of effort we're contemplating."

"A healer, an MDPG detail," Wilson started.

"Actually, we don't know that. I don't even really suspect that," Amelia interrupted. "I think MDPG is probably clean. But probably won't cut it in this case, we need certainly."

"All right boss," Wilson relented. "Who are you fretting about?"

"Cornelius Fudge."

 **17 May 1993** **-** **MoM** **-** **DMLE Annex #3**

It had been decided that the headquarters of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was too public a location from which to conduct their investigation. A conference room in the DMLE number three Annex was accordingly reserved and secured. Amelia Bones was the first to arrive. Rufus Scrimgeour was next, and then Wilson Rogers. All three prepared their morning drinks; coffee for Amelia and strong tea for Rufus and Wilson. When all three were seated, Amelia nodded to Rufus.

"Fudge's public decision record is inconsistent enough that our investigation, though secret, is completely above board. Fudge's stance on Rubeus Hagrid's incarceration has changed four times since Mr. Hagrid was detained," Rufus reported. "More than one decision reversal within three months is legal grounds for an investigation. We're stretching the rules a bit, because normally the investigation consists of a standard medical exam, but we're legally in the clear."

Wilson spoke up. "We cleared a Healer, one Lugh Fitheach, and ran the minister's DPG detail through the standard battery: Curses, Diseases, Potions. They were told beforehand that they were being screened for a potential infectious pathogen. They're all clean. Rufus and I got the oath from the Head of Minister Fudge's detail and the two shift captains. They're getting the oath from the rest of the detail."

Amelia leaned back in her chair and nursed her coffee with a pensive expression. "DPG never reports on their principals," she mused.

"No ma'am," Wilson affirmed. "We keep our mouths shut, they don't try to evade their details. Our principals need to feel as secure with us watching as they would alone."

Amelia frowned, pursing her lips with frustration as the silence dragged on.

"C'mon, Bones, what are you thinking?" Wilson prompted.

"I want to insert an undercover auror into the minister's protection detail," she answered.

Wilson bit back his first, reflexive response, and then his second, more considered response. Amelia tapped the copy of Fudge's medical evaluation. "We need probable cause on Healer Cantor."

"Actually," Rufus interjected, "I think we can get that without compromising the silence of theDPG even tangentially. We feed Minister Fudge the same pathogen story as we did his detail, get him to a healer. If he insists on Cantor, we can find some irregularity with Cantor's parchmentwork and detain him the day before the exam, and have Healer Fitheach conduct the exam instead. Maybe polyjuice Fitheach as Cantor."

"Ultimately," Wilson said slowly, "you're the boss, Madam Bones. But I much prefer Rufus' plan."

"Accepted," Amelia said. "We'll go with Scrimgeour's plan, and revisit theDPG question after we have medical results. Meet back here next week, and bring Healer Fitheach with you. He'll go over the previous medical evaluations and see if we can find something to pull in Cantor before we manufacture it."

Rufus nodded and made a note. "Before we break, one last thing. I'd like to pull Vincent Meyers into the investigation as oversight. It's mostly a bureaucratic cover our asses move, but we really should have someone uninvolved keeping us honest."

"I can approve that," Amelia assented. "We'll have our next meeting here on the twentieth. Bring in Fitheach at that time, get him briefed, and we'll do oaths and inspections with Meyers afterwards. Good?"

Both other men nodded. All three gathered their papers and departed.

 **20 May 1993 - MoM - DMLE Annex #3**

Lugh Fitheach, once Lugh FitzLucius, was a short, heavily built man with a face remarkably like a face remarkably like an English Bulldog. His head was completely shaven, and seven small, gold rings outlined his left ear from lobe to crest. His hands were long-fingered and surprisingly delicate, almost as though they belonged to someone else. He was leaning against the wall of the conference room as Amelia entered, and she thought he was surprisingly intimidating.

"I've been through the medical records Scrimgeour asked me to inspect," he opened. Like his hands, Lugh's voice seemed misplaced; it was high, soft, and musical, almost feminine. "Whatever's going on, someone was lazy. All three evaluations are identical. Same weight, down to the ounce, which is improbable enough to warrant further inspections, but all three **also** indicate 'lingering magical strain from the events of 15 October 1990' and recommend 'extended daily sleep or a short daily nap for the next four weeks'."

Amelia's eyebrow almost reached her hairline in surprise. "Really," she purred. "How remarkable that such a condition should linger for two and a half years."

Rufus cackled gleefully. "That's our probable cause."

Vincent Meyers spoke up, "I appreciate that you're all eager to get on with things, but if I'm to provide unbiased investigatory oversight, I really need to be brought up to speed."

Meyers was just on the far side of middle age, and of average appearance. Slightly distinguished in feature, he simply wasn't memorable, a surprising trait in a man who had once been a member of the bobbies.

"Should I be here for this?" Fitheach asked.

"You're expert testimony," Rufus answered. "So probably yes. But you're not sworn, so… Amelia?"

"Since you're not a sworn officer of the law, you should not be involved in an active investigation," Amelia confirmed. "Please wait outside, Healer Fitheach," she continued. The four law officers waited in silence as the healer departed. Amelia flipped through her notebook and began, "On May eleventh, my sister entered Knochenhaus, irate with her husband…"

 **28 June 1993 - MoM - DMLE Annex #3**

Amelia growled as she strode into the conference room reserved for the Fudge investigation. A rash of violent assaults coupled with a muggle-baiting spree had stalled the investigation until the beginning of June. When they had finally had time to pick up the investigation, Healer Cantor had been on vacation in the Yukon.

"I had hoped to have our results ready to present at the summer session of the House of Magi," she began. "Unfortunately, circumstances have conspired against us. Wilson?"

"St. Mungo's reports that Healer Cantor will be available beginning second July," the Protection Head answered. "Minister Fudge has been scheduled for a full examination on July fifth. Gentle attempts to schedule him with a healer **other** than Cantor were met with forceful refusals. I think we need to go with the polyjuice plan."

"Status on that?" Amelia inquired.

"The polyjuice is available. The minister's protection detail has been briefed on the op. Fitheach has gone over the exam protocols with an MDPG healer, using the cover story that he's considering applying for MDPG medical certification."

"How are we on Cantor's detention?" Amelia asked.

"We're set to go," Rufus responded. "Auror Office curse breakers have been over Cantor's residence. They report that the can bypass his wards. Current plan is to have the Auror Office bypass the wards, then have MLEP Hit Wizards do the snatch early morning of fifth July. We'll get two keyed doses of polyjuice to Healer Fitheach."

"Fudge is Cantor's first appointment that day," Wilson continued, "so no need to worry about exposure. Cantor has one assistant, who will be detained as a material witness when she arrives for work on July fifth."

"Material witness to what?" Meyers asked.

"We brought in the WPS on this a week ago," Wilson clarified. "Cantor's definitely guilty of medical malpractice at the very least. As the case involves an elected official rather than a private citizen it becomes a DMLE matter, so we can detain his assistant."

"Why'd you bring in WPS?" Amelia demanded.

"Can't use polyjuice in a criminal case without authorization from the court," Rufus reminded her. "We needed WPS to get the sign off. Don't fret, everything's under maximum seal."

Amelia nodded once. "Very good. As we're moving from passive to active investigation, I'm going to recuse myself now. Gentlemen," she gave all three men a very slow glare. "Don't screw up."

 **5 July 1993 - St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries**

"Good morning, Minister," Lugh Fitheach greeted the man. Lugh decided that Fudge was much less impressive in person than he was in the paper. Fudge was stoop-shouldered with a noticeable paunch. "Shall we begin?"

"Of course, of course," Fudge answered jovially. Clapping Lugh on the shoulder, the minister led the healer into the private exam room. "Here you are, Jason." Cornelius passed the healer a Gringotts-sealed wallet. Lugh couldn't quite contain his expression at the G100 denomination on the seal, but tucked the wallet away.

"Now, we know the results of course," Lugh intimated as he drew his wand, "but I still need to go through the motions, you know."

Cornelius nodded and smiled condescendingly as he waited for the healer to work. Lugh ran through the standard diagnostics, and once again couldn't quite contain his expression at the results.

"Well, Minister, you're in good health as always," Lugh began, "But your magic's showing a slight arrhythmia. Nothing to worry about, it's fairly common in powerful wizards your age." Cornelius puffed up with pride. "I have the potion to correct that on hand," Lugh continued, moving to a cabinet and retrieving a small vial, which he passed to Cornelius. "Just drink that, and another in a week. Let me write you a…" The Minister slumped as the sedation potion acted, and Lugh caught him and laid him out on the exam table.

A quick stride took Lugh to the door, where he summoned the head of Fudge's protective detail. "He's under the effects of at least three active curses," Lugh stated brusquely. "At least a year old. Get him admitted to the VIP wing and start a forensic medical examination. Can one of you take my statement or do I need to wait?"

The detail head nodded towards two of the minister's bodyguards, who conjured up a stretcher and moved the minister onto it. Lugh handed the bodyguards the beginnings of the minister's chart, then sat and waited to give his statement.

 **5 July 1993 - MoM - DMLE Headquarters**

Upon receiving the initial report from the head of Fudge's protection detail, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement erupted into a flurry of activity. The Minister's office and home were sealed and his entire staff detained. An MDPG Counterintelligence and Curse Breaking unit was swiftly vetted and began sweeping the entire floor.

Ladon Greengrass, Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic, watched the proceedings with a disinterested air that fooled very few. He was as keenly interested in the kerfuffle as anyone else. Tall, slender and upright with aristocratic features and white hair, Ladon Greengrass never needed to posture; he **knew** he was better than all others.

He watched impassively as an MDPG officer entered the holding cells where the Minister's staff had been detained and approached. "Undersecretary Greengrass, please follow me." Greengrass gave a minute nod of acknowledgment and followed the officer. He was led through the DMLE to a small, austere room containing two chairs, a small table, and the Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Madam Amelia Bones. She gestured to the unoccupied chair, and Greengrass sat opposite her.

"You will place your hand on the oathstone and make this oath," she directed, pushing a piece of parchment towards him. Greengrass raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"And if I do not?"

"Then you'll be arrested and charged with Conspiracy to Commit Treason Against Her Majesty's Lawful Magical Government," she replied, matching his raised eyebrow.

Greengrass snorted, "You'll never make that stick."

"Probably not," she answered cheerfully, "but I've probable cause to make the arrest and charge if you don't swear the oath."

Greengrass shook his head and read over the oath before placing his hand on the stone, "I, Ladon Altais of the House of Greengrass, do hereby swear that I have not, by potion or by spell, attempted to influence the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, as of this fifth day of July in the Common Era." The oathstone under his hand flashed blue. "Sufficient?" he inquired.

Amelia nodded once in response.

"Now, what the **devil** is going on, Director?" Greengrass demanded.

"As of this moment, you are the Acting Minister for Magic of the Greater Kingdom of Britain under Her Majesty Elizabeth II," Amelia answered.

Greengrass' social mask slipped enough as he gaped at her. "But… **how**!? I'm fourth in line. I'm behind you, for Maeve's sake!"

"Fudge is in St. Mungo's VIP ward with long-term curse exposure," she said. "Umbridge declined to take the oath and is currently under arrest. As there's a criminal investigation being run on the Office of the Minister for Magic, I'm automatically removed as a candidate for Acting Minister. Crouch declined because he doesn't have a subordinate he can hand his office to. That puts you at the top of the list, pending confirmation by the House of Magi."

Amelia waited while Greengrass composed himself. When he nodded at her, she started at the beginning of the investigation and brought him up to the present.

"The actual Office is closed and still being swept by the MDPG," she continued. "As of thirty minutes ago, they've discovered three unauthorized monitoring charms in Fudge's personal office, two auditory and one linked to his blotter. They've discovered three unknown dark artifacts in Umbridge's office that they're calling 'Blood Quills'. You need to be cleared by a trustworthy healer, and then we'll convene the House of Magi and brief them."

SHAKEUP AT OFFICE OF THE MINISTER FOR MAGIC  
Daily Prophet - 8 June 1993

LONDON - The Ministry of Magic in Great Britain is in upheaval today as investigations continue into the workings of the Office of the Minister for Magic. Beginning in May, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement initiated an investigation based on evidence given by Miranda Fudge, wife of the sitting Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge.

"I wanted my husband to quit," says Mrs. Fudge. "The job of Minister for Magic seemed to be adversely affecting his health. I was so worried." But it wasn't that job that was at issue.

Director of Magical Law Enforcement Amelia Bones says, "When [Mrs. Fudge] came to speak with me, she was just venting her frustrations. But I heard enough, given her intimate relationship with the Minister, to warrant further investigation."

Minister Fudge was found by healers to be under long term Confudus, Befuddlement, Wit-Dulling, and Will-Weakening curses. Expert medical testimony suggests that he's been under the curses' influence since shortly after he took office.

"It's a bit of a nightmare for the office," says Acting Minister for Magic Ladon Greengrass. "We're having to go back over every decision [Minister Fudge]'s made since he took office, and try to work out whether they're legitimate or influenced by others."

Chief Warlock Albus Dumbledore reports feeling relieved at the news. "Though I did not think him the best choice for Minister, Cornelius remains my friend. I worried for him as I saw his choices become more erratic. Though I'm not glad he was cursed, I AM glad he was not faltering of his own will."

Lucius Malfoy was arrested today. No charges have yet been filed publicly, but sources within the DMLE report that the curses which were affecting Minister Fudge were worked into the minister's office chair. The office chair was duly registered as a traditional Malfoy gift to a rising Minister or Sovereign.

Former Healer Jason Cantor was arrested in conjunction with the minister's cursing, and has pled guilty to Medical Malfeasance. The Healer's Licensing Board has stripped Cantor of his title of healer and his right to practice medicine. Cantor awaits sentencing.

 **10 June 1993 - Fudge Estate - Gingerbread House**

Miranda Fudge straightened at the gentle whoosh of an activating floo. She turned, and saw her husband wringing his ridiculous hat.

"Miranda, I…" he began.

Miranda flew at him, and wrapped him in a tight embrace, smiling through happy tears. "Oh, Cornelius…

"Welcome home."

* * *

 **A/N** : Casting: Amelia Bones - Jodie Foster  
Ladon Greengrass - Christopher Lee  
Cornelius Fudge - Ioan Gruffudd  
Miranda Fudge - Anna Paquin  
Wilson Rogers - Colm Meaney  
Vincent Meyers - John Malkovich (Why, yes, I watched Con Air recently...)  
Lugh Fitheach - Vin Diesel


	2. The More Things Change

The More Things Change  
"In which 'the art of the possible' makes prisoners of great men."

 **16 August 1993 - Ministry of Magic - Office of the Minister for Magic**

Ladon Greengrass strode into the informal conference room and dropped wearily into the seat at the head of the conference table. He nodded genially towards Albus Dumbledore. "Good Morning, Albus. Which hat are you wearing today?"

Dumbledore's expression remained impassive, but a look at his eyes betrayed his amusement. "Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Acting Minister Greengrass," he replied.

"Be welcome, Headmaster Dumbledore," Greengrass formally greeted him, before looking around the room. Present were Dumbledore, Greengrass' Legislative Consultant, Mrs. Fudge, and the Minister's Liaison to the DMLE. "We're about to begin our weekly political briefing. Anyone have anything Dumbledore shouldn't hear today?"

Heads shook around the table, and Greengrass nodded. "Then you're welcome to remain, and I'll have time for you afterwards," Greengrass concluded.

"Thank you, Minister," Dumbledore replied.

" **Acting** Minister," Greengrass corrected sharply.

"Of course. Acting Minister," Dumbledore acknowledged with a smile.

With a wordless grumble, Greengrass gestured towards the Mrs. Fudge.

"Cornelius is doing well. Physically, he's perfectly recovered," she smiled. A frown quickly followed. "Emotionally, his mood swings have stabilized. He still wants to resign. He's appalled by some of the decisions he made under the influence of the curses, especially the appointment of Ms. Umbridge."

There were grimaces and nods of agreement around the table. "Intellectually, rational decision-making continues to be very difficult for him. He can do so, but only slowly, and only if someone he trusts is available to remind him that his first impulse may not be the correct impulse.

"His healers are confident that he will recover, but the time frame is uncertain. They're suggesting it could be as long as a year," she concluded.

Ladon scowled and nodded, "Thank you, Madam Fudge. Your willingness to keep us informed is greatly appreciated. Next," Greengrass ordered.  
"Malfoy's bloc continues to stall us," the Legislative Consultant began. "He can only be tried by the House of Magi, and his bloc is maintaining that we don't have the authority to summon the House to Judgement.

"There's no legal precedent one way or the other. Expert opinion is that the best option is to get Fudge dismissed," she continued, "which will remove the 'acting' flag from your title and put you firmly in the Minister's Chair."

"Absolutely not," Greengrass denied. "First, it would be political suicide to move against Fudge right now. Second, I really don't want the chair." The acting minister sat back in his chair, frowning. "Have Legal review the possibility of Her Majesty convening the House directly, without exercising Her authority through the Minister's Office."

"Yes, Minister," she acknowledged.

"Acting Minister," Greengrass corrected wearily. "Next."

"Sirius Black remains a problem," opened the DMLE Liaison. "Public response has been mostly cautious. Gringotts reports that its Security and Warding division is showing a 22% increase in business over last year. We don't have numbers from the independents, but…"

"We can expect those to be higher," Greengrass interrupted. "What about incidents?"

"Barely an uptick," the liaison answered. "People are nervous, but not panicking."

"Good," Greengrass affirmed. "The Dementors?"

"Calmed. Inclusion of a Dementor pair in Incident Response Team has appeased them, for now," the liaison said. "They're still restless, but we've appeased them by allowing them to set up at Hogwarts."

"Which I really must protest again," Dumbledore interrupted. "The Dementors of Azkaban have no business being around children."

"I know that," Greengrass snapped. "But I don't have much choice, Albus. They've rioted three times since escape. You know how tenuous our control of them is. We either let them garrison Hogwarts, or they'll be searching the country, entirely unfettered. Hogwarts has the largest number of patronus capable wizards in the UK, and one of only two extant dementor wards in the world. If you have a better idea, I'd love to hear it."

Dumbledore deflated slightly. "I do not."

"What about the Black Capture Team?" Greengrass asked.

"They're investigating the direct route from the North Sea to Hogwarts," DMLE answered. "The director's pitching a fit because his file's foursquare sealed. We're in a bit of a bind without a seated Minister. Wizengamot and DMLE have authorized their seal release, but only Fudge can authorize the Ministry seal release, and the House is being uncooperative."

"Can we do anything to encourage them?" Greengrass inquired.

"If you're willing to release that we think Potter might be a target," the Legislative Consultant replied.

"Not at this time," Greengrass decided. "If they're still being obstinate by August 23rd, we'll revisit that. Speaking of Potter, what's going on with him?"

"The Accidental Magic Reversal Squad reversed Miss Dursley's inflation and modified her memory," Dumbledore answered. "Harry had caught the Knight Bus after the incident, and I met him at Diagon Alley.

"He has agreed to remain at the Leaky Cauldron until term begins, and to restrict his movements to Diagon Alley," Dumbledore continued. "I am certain he is suspicious, and if no progress has been made by the end of August, I shall ask Arthur Weasley to let Mr. Potter know that we believe Black is targeting him."

"Anything else?" Greengrass asked. All responded in the negative. "Headmaster, your business?"

"I wished to convince you to abandon your plan of stationing the Dementors at Hogwarts," Albus answered.

"It's not **my** plan," the Acting Minister grumbled. "It's the Dementors' plan. You understand why I will not?"

"Oh yes," Dumbledore agreed.

"Maybe you can find a way to deal with Dementors permanently," Greengrass hinted. "It would be a terrible thing if they had an 'accident' while guarding the school."

"Perhaps," the Headmaster nodded. "Good day, Minister."

" **Acting** Minister," Greengrass called after him.

Dumbledore's laughter was the only reply.

 _fin_

 **A/N** : The more they stay the same. Canon's always insisted that the Dementors are almost wild, and that the Ministry has only an illusion of control. I like the idea that the Dementors at Hogwarts is the best of a very few, very bad options. The chapter heading comes from a quote by Otto von Bismarck: "Politics is the art of the possible."


End file.
